Secrets of a Dead Man

It’s been four days since the old man died, and yet it seems everyone else has already figured it was time to divvy up his belongings. My family is like a pack of vultures, ready to pounce on the first opportunity to better themselves in a greedy pursuit of self-development. Abandoning all morals and self-respect, prepared to stab even their flesh and blood in the back if that’s what it takes. As I sit in my grandfather’s attic, dark and damp, I could hear the old house settle and creek as if it were crying for its lost owner. I sat on an old crate and stared helplessly out the small window peering over the harbor behind his home; I gaze out upon the old docks where I caught my first fish. As the rainy day progressed, I began to feel water running down my face.

As I wiped the lowly droplet from my cheeks, I began reminiscing the most memorable days that he and I shared. My grandfather taught me how to be a man since my father died in Iraq when I was just nine. He showed me the ropes in both construction and mechanic work. I even learned how to live off the land by hunting and foraging. The old man knew everything, and when he spoke, I deemed it necessary to take his words with high regard. As I continued remembering all that he did for me I could feel another tear forming. I rubbed my eye dry before the droplet could form and noticed a small box almost tucked in the unfinished attic’s insulation. I crept over to it walking from beam to beam since the floor was practically non-existent. It was also pretty dark in the attic, and the only light was on the other side where the ladder was.

You could say my curiosity has peeked. I like old things; cars, tools, photos, even newspaper clippings from before my time intrigue me, and by the looks of it, this thing was in its years. The box was made of a light metal, probably aluminum or tin, and was a sight to see. It had an emblem on the top and looked like an old jewelry box or perhaps an old box for medals and awards. My grandfather was in the air force back in his youth, so it could be a shadow box of some sort. As I examined it further, I noticed something in it; it was cumbersome, yet small enough to move around in the box. However, I couldn’t see what it was. It had a lock on it, and as you could guess, no key to be found. I pulled out the swiss army knife that my grandfather gave me on my thirteenth birthday and began to pick the lock just like he showed me.

The knife was one of my most valuable possessions; It had a black marble surround and my name engraved in gold. On the other side engraved on it said “Strength in Love.” My grandfather always told me that if whatever I do in my life, whether others saw it as right or wrong, as long as it is for someone I love, I will always be right. And with that love in my heart, I will be strong enough to overcome any hardships. Ever since I heard his philosophical words and received this gift from him, I never go anywhere without it. I began to pick the lock, and just before cracking it open… “Jason! Come downstairs; your cousins just arrived!” The shouting from my mother startled me, and for a moment, I almost lost my balance and nearly caved in through the floor. I regained my footing, quickly concealing the box in my hoodie, and made my way downstairs.

As I got downstairs, I was hurried into the kitchen by my mother, and as I figured, she had neglected to tell me that along with my cousins, the lawyer that would read my grandfather’s will. “Why don't you say hello to your cousins? How long has it been? Four or five years?” I turned to my first cousin Derek and shook his hand. Derek was the kind of guy who could care less about anything that is happening right now. He likes to travel and tends to stay on the move. If I know him, he’s itching to be on some island. Then I look towards my Aunt. She is my Mother’s sister, but deep down, they hate each other’s guts. I don't mean they would ‘try’ and help the other out if one needs it. I mean, they would probably help make matter’s worse for the other. She gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek and began going off on how big I got. I know her interest is to see who gets my grandfather’s valuables after this mock-up job of a reunion. Then the worst one came in. Derek’s younger sister Rebbecca. She just turned eighteen like two months ago, yet she acts as though she has authority over all who come across her path, and it is downright frustrating.

I looked over to her and put on a very sarcastic smile, and greeted her. “Hey, Becca, how are you its been a while?” She looked at me, chewing away on some gum or something, and looked at me like I was Death himself. “As if you care, and what are you hiding in your pocket there. Trying to get the goods before anyone else, huh?” I held the box in my pocket firmly and was very agitated as of now. The vulture caught a glimpse of the bulge in my sweater, so I had to bring it out and downplay it. “What this old box? I found it in the attic. It’s nothing special.” She glared at me and proceeded, “Well, if it nothing special, then why try and hide it? Let me see it; I want to gaze upon its everlasting nothingness.” She quickly and aggressively, might I add, reached for the box and pulled quickly, trying to pry it from my grip. “Hey, cut it out; what are you doing!?” She pulled again, this time even harder, and the box shot from my hand into hers. The force was too much for her to keep her grubby little hands on it, so it slammed the wall, and boy did it hit HARD. I rushed over to the box. The lawyer and my aunt tried to calm Becca down, and my mother just sat there trying to figure out if she should do the same or aid me. The box was in pieces: thick dark glass and dented metal; nothing was left of the beautiful box. I was infuriated.

I grabbed this little black book inside, and the little deviant was over my shoulder and snatched it from my hands. “Oh, look at this. This looks like it could be important. Why don't we give it a look, see?” I stood up quickly, ready to snatch the book and just high tail it out of there before I did anything rash, but by the time I stood back up, she tosses me the book back. “Well, it looks like you were right, nothing special about this” I looked through the book, and it was nothing but empty old pages. I almost cracked a smirk but refrained because then Becca would get suspicious. I quickly grabbed my coat and car keys and hurried towards the front door. “Arent you going to stay?” my mother calls back to me. “I’m heated. I need to go cool off”. She understood but didn’t reply. I got in my car. Probably my second most valuable possession. It was a 69 Chevelle SS, and It was the first car the old man and I worked back when he was still a mechanic, and he gave it to me because he knew it was my dream car. I remember when he pretended it was for a client, and that he needed help doing a full restoration. Since I loved the car and loved working with him, I saw it as a win-win—another tear began to flow down my face.

I drove home quickly, grabbed the little black book from the passenger seat, and rushed to my room. I placed the book on my desk. I brought my table lamp directly over it. As I pulled the band off the book and turned slowly through the pages, I kept a close eye on each page. And there it was, almost towards the end of the book—a name and number. My grandfather said back in WWII, and all the branches had to utilize different ways to get information back and forth under enemies’ noses, carrier pigeons, secret messages, and the use of morse code was essential and used by everyone involved. When I was younger, he showed me how to write secret messages out of lemon juice and utilizing heat to make the message appear. He claimed it was a fun little parlor trick at the time, something magicians did, but a few years ago, he had brought it up again and told me the story of how it helped saved a friend’s life.

I wrote down the name and number and began calling. At first, nothing, it would ring and ring but no response what-so-ever. After the fourth attempt, I started thinking perhaps this number doesn’t belong to this person anymore. I tried once more before turning in for the night and finally got hold of a woman. She spoke quietly and politely. “Hello, this is John Carsons’ phone; how may I help you?” I was eager but had to play my cards right; since they have no idea who I am, I don't want to bombard them with questions off the bat. “Yes, hello, my name is Jason. I was told to contact Mr. Carson. Is he available?”

I waited patiently for a moment, and she proceeded, “Sure, may I ask who told you to contact Mr. Carson? Unfortunately, he doesn’t recall a Jason” I stood up and figured if he remembers my grandfather, then he’ll surely allow me to speak with him. “Ah yes, my apologies, my grandfather Henry Butler had told me to give Mr. Carson a call” For a moment, silence presumable to relay the message to Carson. Soon after, a man comes on the phone “Your Butlers’ grandson? Are you pulling my chain? Can you come to meet me at my home tomorrow morning? We can talk then.” I told him, of course, and he proceeded to give me his address and wished me a good night. I went to bed that night but was curious about what I’ve just gotten into. I could hardly sleep.

The following morning I got up bright and early and went straight for my car. Mr. Carson was about an hour’s drive away, so I made sure to make haste. As I got to the address he had me write down, I gazed upon his home. It was very rustic, almost as if he had built it by hand. Massive trees surrounded his home and a long driveway leading from the public road into his ‘estate.’ It had to be at least a few acres of land, and it was a beautiful piece of property. I pulled my car towards the front door and proceeded to get out when I was greeted by what I can only presume was the woman on the phone. “Hello, welcome to Mr. Carson’s home. I am Susan, and I am his caretaker. If you would be so kind as to follow me, Mr. Carson has been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

As she guided me through the massive old house, she explained that Carson had Alzheimer’s and slowly lost most of his memory. She explained how shocked she was when he remembered my grandfather, considering how deteriorated his mind has become due to the illness. We finally end up in an oversized master bedroom where I could see the remnants of a man lying in wait attached to various medical equipment and IV bags. “Hello, Mr. Carson, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Jason. We spoke on the phone yesterday.” I sat patiently for a response. “Oh yes, Jason, was it? Please come sit in the chair here” He points to a very worn leather recliner, but as beaten as it might have been, it was the most comfortable chair ever.

He looked up at me and chuckled. “So how is Butler these days? I’m sure he is still the wild card I knew him to be” I looked at him, and I suppose the way I looked at him, he could tell right away. “I see. When did he…?” I interrupted briefly. “Five days now. Far too soon.” He looked up at the ceiling and proceeded, “When did he tell you to contact me?” I grabbed the small black book from my pocket and showed him the discovery written in secret. “I found this hidden away, and he had once shown me how to write and reveal messages like this, he had sometimes said just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist and told me about how this trick saved a dear friend of his long ago.” Carson then went quiet for a moment, and I could see a tear in his eye.

“Mr. Carson, are you okay? Are you in pain?” Susan asked in a concerned expression. “I’m fine. May you please leave the two of us alone for a moment?” She nodded and began towards the door. Before exiting, she turned back around to call out once more. “If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be just outside in the hall” She left. Carson then turns to me. “Kid, I need you to know something about your old man.”

“Long ago, your grandfather and I fought in the second world war. We were pilots who found ourselves inside enemy lines more than we should have been. We lost many friends. Saw and did many horrible things. Soon after the aftermath of the war, we were headed back home to our families. At the time, I had my wife Lucille and Butler had his wife, Amy. We remained good friends for many years to come, and life was better here than it was back overseas. Then I remember when Butler contacted me and was in a rut, the factory he had been working at had been letting people off due to the uprise of machines. He lost his job and was struggling to figure out what to do. At this time, he and Amy just had a daughter, and he was desperate to take care of his family as any man should be…” He began to cough, a very painful-looking cough. Susan called out to him as she rushed to open the door. “Mr. Carson, are you okay?” He waves her off, and she closes the door behind her.

“As I was saying, a desperate man in need of help will turn to anyone. He contacted me; however, I was dealing with problems at the time as well. I was a renowned gambler and, by all means, not a very good one. I had a debt with several powerful men who I had to pay back as soon as possible. I couldn’t help your grandfather, and he understood the position I was in. Unfortunately, he turned to another man in need of help, a powerful man at the time. His name slips from my mind, but he was no good, I can assure you. He knew your grandfather was in the services and knew he could use him. So he had your grandfather collect on his debts for him and, if need be, perform ‘other’ undesirable acts in which he would be paid handsomely. That included beating the money out of poor saps that couldn’t pay up and at times taking the debt with life instead. Your grandfather was a good man but needed to provide for his family.

One of the contracts his employer had sent him to was me. I owed $20,000 to this criminal, and Butler was ordered to take me out. Your grandfather was intelligent, and as soon as he caught word of who he was sent to kill, he formulated a plan. It wasn’t pretty by no means, someone would have to die, but it was necessary. He came to my house along with two thugs. The two other men weren’t there to help him, but more to make sure he did the job. He handed me the letter that his boss had written, a calling card if you will. He was telling me what was going to happen and that my time has come. However, as he handed me the letter, your grandfather made a reference I haven’t heard since the war. ‘A cold man needs to keep warm’ I recognized what was happening and had adjusted the letter towards the light. The two morons next to him didn’t suspect a thing.”

“He had written a secret message on the corner. ‘Just like the old days’ I put the letter down, and your grandfather had his weapon drawn. He aimed at the guy on his left. The other was about to attack, and I quickly socked him. The loud ring of a gun, something we soldiers were all too familiar with, is all I heard. After the one thug dropped, the other was to follow. He looked at me and told me he’d take care of me, but I owe him one. He left, and cops came soon after. I had told them it was self-defense that the two men were trying to harm me. They went through the motions, and I walked away with no problems. I was concerned, however, for Butler. His Informer will know he turned on him and put him six feet under. That night Butler called me and told me no one would hunt me down anymore. I asked what had happened, and he told me not to worry.”

“A couple of years ago, I received a call from Butler, and he told me about you. He told me how you grew up without a father and that he was helping your mom take care of you. Then he asked me If I remembered the debt I owed his ex-employer way back then. How could I forget? $20,000. That was what my life was worth. I knew where this was leading to before he could finish. I owed one more debt.” Mr. Carson handed me an old key. “You see that portrait there?” I looked over, and it was Mr. Carson, and a Woman I presumed was his wife. “Behind it, a safe. I want you to open it and take the contents of it.” In shock at what I had just heard, I walked over to the safe and opened it. I was overwhelmed to find $20,000 in it and a note. I couldn’t hold back the tears as I read the message “Strength in Love.”